Dazed and Confused
by TheSmartypants
Summary: For StepOnMe. Chaos ensues when Max and Iggy accidentally switch bodies. Max struggles with being blind, Iggy discovers the joys of being a girl, and Fang gets very confused... [Fax] CHAPTER THREE IS UP!
1. Chapter 1: The Switch

**Dazed and Confused**

**A/N: As you've probably figured out, this is for the challenge that StepOnMe posted for two characters switching bodies. This is told mostly in Max and Iggy POV, with some Fang POV. Because I was worried that the switches might be confusing, I marked whose they are. **

**I wasn't really sure what genre to put this under, since it's going to have a bit of everything: Humor, drama, romance, action... all that good stuff. I know that most of this first part really isn't funny, so just bear with me. Also, for anyone wondering, there is no Miggyness here. There will be some Fax. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot. Dang it...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter One: The Switch**

**Max**

"Iggy? Ig, are you in there?"

I knocked softly on the rotting wooden door. "Ig, come on. We need you to help make dinner. Unless you want me to do it."

I listened closely. Still no answer. That was odd- usually the mention of me even _touching_ the food that we would eat was enough to make Iggy stop whatever he was doing.

I knocked again, louder this time. "Iggy!" I called. A muffled grunt came from the interior of the old tool shed, but he didn't emerge. Sighing, I quietly forced the heavy door open and stepped inside.

I blinked as my eyes tried to adjust to the sudden darkness. I suppressed a grumble. Although it was a righteous pain for the majority of the flock, it _did_ make perfect sense for Iggy to work here; after all, he had no need for light.

The tool shed was one of the many advantages of the abandoned beach house that we had found. The other obvious benefits were shelter and relative security. (The disadvantages included an inordinate amount of dust on just about everything, no light in the tool shed, and the fact that part of the roof was caved in.)

But I slept in the tunnels of the New York Subway. I'm not complaining.

I turned towards Iggy, who obviously knew that I was in there but didn't acknowledge my presence. His fingers were flying, connecting wires and machinery that I knew nothing about. I will never understand how he always knew exactly how to put something together, even though he couldn't see it.

Iggy and bombs is not exactly my favorite combination. But somehow, he had managed to convince me that it was a good idea. I guess his plans (excuses, really) _might_ work. If any Erasers show up, we do a quick U and A before they see us, then leave a little present behind while they stretch their dim IQ's trying to figure out where we went.

The problem is that it's usually not that simple. But whatever. I don't want to think about that just now.

Anyway, although Iggy might be on to something about the Erasers, it's more than just that. When he's building a bomb, he's actually… happy.

Well, as happy as a blind mutant bird freak on the run can be, anyway.

I studied his face. So peaceful. I wonder what he felt when he was working like this- calm, relaxed, happily tuned out from the world around him? I would have to ask him someday.

Suddenly, something hard and cold flickered across his face, followed by a look of confusion. Something was wrong. I could tell.

"Iggy?" I asked warily. "What is it?"

His hands fumbled desperately at the wires. I didn't know what was wrong. I had never seen him lose control of something he was working on. Never. "Iggy?" I prodded.

"Max," he said, his voice having a steely edge to it, "get out of here."

I was struck dumb. "What?" I said intelligently.

"Get out of here. Now." A look of panic was rising in his unseeing eyes.

I still didn't move.

"_Go!_"

I snapped out of it. In an instant, I turned on my heel and ran, blindly hoping that Iggy had enough sense to follow.

He and I were three steps out of the door when the tool shed exploded.

The blast rocketed through my body. Gasping for air, I lurched and fell to my knees. _Oh, crap._ This was the end. I could feel it. _Goodbye, world. Sorry that I never got around to saving you._

But just then, as leaned forward and retched, I felt the oddest sensation: as if my very _soul_ was being tugged out of my body. Was this it? Was I going to whatever afterlife there might be? Don't winged kids go to heaven?

Wait a minute. I didn't want to die. I would never see Angel or Nudge or Iggy or Gazzy or Fang ever again. No, I _couldn't_ die now. I still had the freaking world to save, after all.

I strained against the invisible force pulling me up. I did not want to go now. No freaking way. With all my might, I forced my spirit into a U-turn. Now, that was more like it. It took a nosedive, speeding so fast that I couldn't see where I was going, and plunged straight into the body below.

Just before I sank into the body, I caught a glimpse of myself lying farther away, staring at the sky with a glassy-eyed expression.

_Huh?_

And then, in that instant, everything went black.

* * *

I woke in a comfortable bed with the sunlight warming my face. Out of instinct, I yawned and stretched, only to wince when my shoulder violently protested. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. It felt great. I didn't want to wake up. 

The sounds of Nudge's chatter wafted up from downstairs. Groaning, I reluctantly opened my eyes.

It looked exactly the same as when they were closed.

_What?_

I closed and opened them again. Still no difference. I lifted my hand to my eyes and felt the lids moving. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see. At all.

I frantically scanned my memory for anything unusual, anything that could explain this. It came back to me in bits and pieces—Iggy yelling at me to get out; the explosion; the feeling of my soul leaving my body; and finally, seeing myself with that awful, glassy-eyed look.

I shook my head slowly. What had happened during that explosion?

I heard shuffling footsteps. It was Fang; I could tell just by the way he walked. I sat straight up. "Fang!" I called.

The footsteps stopped for a moment, then resumed more quickly. "Oh, good," he said, "you're up. About time—you've been out for a day and a half."

"A day and a half?" That was crazy. Unless it was a lot more serious than I thought, my mutant bird freak immune system should have healed me more quickly than that. What was going on? What had that bomb done to me?

"Yup." I heard him turn to go.

"Fang, wait!"

"What is it?"

"I- I can't see!"

He sighed audibly; I could practically see him rolling his eyes. "No duh," he said exasperatedly. As he shuffled out the door, I heard him mutter, "Jeez, Iggy, you're crazy."

_Iggy?_

_What?_

_

* * *

_

**Iggy**

_Mmm._ The bed was warm. And so, so comfortable. More so than usual, in fact. I didn't want to get up. That would mean parting with the comfort of my bed, and I was not particularly willing to do that. I rolled over.

"And then I was like, 'What are you talking about?' and she was like 'What do you think?' and then I got really mad 'cause she is so _annoying_ sometimes and—"

I groaned as Nudge's nonstop chatter carried upstairs. I buried my face in the pillow. I guess I would have to get up now. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep with her carrying on.

I was _not_ happy about it.

Reluctantly, I sat up in bed and stretched. I opened my eyes, not that it ever made a difference anyway.

Except—

Oh.

My.

God.

I could _see_.

I let out a small yip of excitement and flung the covers off myself, the comfort of the bed entirely forgotten. I could _see_. I could see!

I quickly scanned the surrounding area. Wait a minute—this wasn't my room; this was Max's. What was I doing in Max's room?

I didn't give myself much time to think about it. I could see now; that was all that mattered. I studied the blue walls and green comforter with delight. A book lay on the wooden dresser. I picked it up and read the cover: _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. It was mostly green with purple lettering and featured a boy with glasses and an old man. I remembered hearing Max talking about this one. Apparently, it was all the rage among the non-mutant people of America.

As I put the book down, I studied my hands. They were smaller than I thought they were. The skin was slightly chapped, too. That was odd—mine usually weren't. I let it slide.

Just then, I realized that I had no idea what I looked like. I was dead curious—who wouldn't be? I wondered why that hadn't been the very first thing I had thought of. I let my gaze drift down to the rest of my body, expecting to see long, lanky legs and a flat, chiseled stomach.

The legs were long, as I had anticipated, although they were still a little shorter than what I had expected. My stomach, I could see through the outline of my shirt, was flat and hard. And—

Wait a minute.

Where did _those_ come from?

I looked back down at my clothes. These pants were not mine. This shirt was not mine. And _those_—

Those were _definitely_ not mine.

Slowly, dreading what I might see, I inched my way over to the bathroom mirror. Praying that I was wrong, that I would see the strawberry-blond hair and blue eyes that I was told I had, I braved a glance in the mirror…

…And Max's face stared back at me.

_Max_ was gaping back at me.

I was Max.

I was Max?

_What?_

I reached up to the blond-streaked hair, to the chocolate brown eyes. I ran my fingers over my—her face. All real. I felt it all. What was going on? I was in Max's body? _How_ on earth had this happened?

My thoughts flipped back to the explosion. I remembered somehow losing control of the bomb, knowing that it was going to explode, yelling at Max to get out of there. Running beside her. The explosion knocking me off my feet, feeling like I was going to die. My spirit being pulled out of my body. Fighting to live. My spirit diving into my body… and seeing myself lying there, my unseeing eyes glazed over. And then nothing.

All of a sudden, it clicked. I had almost died, but fought back with my will to live. My spirit was going to re-enter my body… but I guess it entered the wrong one. How on earth was I going to get back to mine?

Staring at the mirror in horror, I began to panic. And, much to my dismay, I let out a loud, piercing _shriek_.

There was silence for a moment before I heard quick footsteps. I suppressed a groan. That would be Fang, right on cue.

"Max?" he called, his voice tense with anxiety. "Are you okay?"

Fang stopped as he saw me staring at the mirror in abject terror. "Was it Eraser Max? Is she back?"

Eraser Max? Max was an Eraser?

His arm came up around me and he forced me to look him in the eyes. "Look, Max, you're _not_ an Eraser, whatever the mirror might show you. I know that. You know that." He paused. "You'll be okay," he said, sounding almost as if he had said those same words to Max before. "I promise."

It took all of my extreme maturity not to gag. I had always had my suspicions about Max and Fang—those midnight conversations weren't _nearly_ as quiet as they liked to think—but this was a little too much for me. I turned away from Fang.

"That's not all, is it?"

I nearly jumped in surprise. Did he always read Max this well?

Could he tell that I wasn't Max?

This could be a problem…

"Max?" There was his voice again, bringing me back to reality.

I attempted a smile, but I think it turned out as more of a grimace. "I'm fine," I said. "Really."

"Are you sure…" he began. I stopped him.

"I'm _fine_," I told him once again, a hint of exasperation creeping into my voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to change."

Fang had the decency to redden a little bit at my words. I gently pushed him out the door, shutting it quietly behind him, and let out a slow breath. I turned back to the mirror.

I really was Max; Fang's actions alone were evidence enough of that. And if _I_ was Max…

Was Max me?

I tore my gaze away from the face in the mirror and strode purposefully down the hall towards my own room. If I was right, then what I would find in there would confirm my guesses about what had happened to me and Max.

Seeing yourself for the first time after you've been blind for most of your life is strange. Doing this outside of your body is even stranger. But there is absolutely nothing weirder—or, oddly enough, funnier—than seeing yourself for the first time, _outside_ of your own body, and watching yourself run straight into a wall.

My—Max's—head met the white paneling with a loud _thunk_, and Max stumbled and fell back. Groaning, she rubbed her forehead. "Ouch," she muttered.

I struggled to contain my laughter. Being blind _does_ take a while to get used to.

"Hello, Max," I said as calmly as I could. She jumped in surprise at the sound of her own voice.

"What…" she began.

"I'm glad to see that you've met the wall," I smirked. I gestured to the paneling. "Wall, meet Max." I paused and turned back to her. "He's not very talkative."

She glared at me, a look completely wasted since she was facing the wrong direction. I fought once again to stifle my laughter.

I failed miserably.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and my stomach started aching as I collapsed in uncontrollable mirth. Max was not so amused.

"So you think this is funny, do you? Somehow, we're… I don't even know what's happened to us, and you're just sitting there _laughing_? Come _on_!" Max's voice rose, and her face was flushed from shouting. However, her little tirade only increased my laughter, as she was _still_ facing the wall. Max scowled.

Finally, I managed to get myself relatively under control. Up until now, I had been freaking out about how to switch back, but after seeing Max run into the wall it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to enjoy this while I could. I stumbled out of the room, still snickering silently.

This was going to be interesting… Oh, yes, very interesting indeed…

* * *

Congratulations for getting this far! If you could tell me what you think, I would really appreciate it. Thanks for reading! 

TheSmartypants


	2. Chapter 2: How About Takeout?

**A/N:** Yep, I'm back. Sorry for the delay in this chapter-- real life has this annoying habit of getting in the way. Hopefully, due to the arrival of summer, I'll be able to update more frequently.

Many thanks to my wonderful reviewers from the last chapter. I couldn't believe the response I got to this. You guys are awesome! They are: hyper.much911, AuthorGirl258, lightningbent101, Set.Me.Free.123, BlueAqua, EmoNinja14, CrimsonScarz, XIrishXDreamerX, Mew-Sahara, fireandice226, BeautifulInsanity13, x-kuroi-ame-x, x Step On Me x, loria, AirGirl Phantom, Silidons, angelz on edge, FangsGurl, my brother's name is not carl, pure-awesomeness, pictureperfexi0n, maximum-calories, Cherry47, Ella Cinders, weridness, Exclamation marks are cool!..., paper-mate2, like i'm really gonna tell..., DigiNinMon, thenewmastercreater, Pyromaniac-Girl, Fangs-Girl, violetpurple14, and .Dr1v3n t0 1n5aN1Ty. You guys make my day!

About this chapter: The first part's not funny at all, but I wanted to put it in anyway. Actually, most of this chapter isn't too funny, so please bear with me. It will get more humorous in the next chapter, I swear. Also, to avoid confusion, when it's in Max's POV and she says Iggy, she's referring to Iggy's soul, in her body, who everyone else thinks is Max. Likewise, when Iggy refers to Max, he's talking about who everyone thinks is Iggy. Sorry, I know it can be kind of confusing.

Anyway, without further ado, here's chapter two! (Ha! Rhymingness!)

**Disclaimer:** I wish.

* * *

**Chapter Two: How About Takeout?**

"_What happened?_"

The voice was deadly; there was no mistaking it. Low and fierce, it alone was enough to send shivers down the spine of the man at which it was directed.

"You were supposed to keep her safe. To keep her from straying from the path she is to take."

"I don't know—" the man began.

"Don't tell me _you don't know_!" the Director snapped. "You were _supposed_ to be watching her at all times. _What happened?_"

Unable to meet the Director's blazing eyes, the man looked down at the floor and ran a hand through his light brown hair. The rings under his hazel eyes told of many sleepless nights.

"Dammit, Batchelder, it was a simple task! Get Max to save the world!" The Director leaned forward, close enough that a blond strand brushed against the older man's nose. Her voice lowered to a deadly whisper. "Now how, exactly, is she going to do that if she's in the _blind boy's body_?"

Once again, the man found himself rendered speechless.

"You're in her head," she continued. "You know her thoughts; you talk to her. How did you let this happen?"

"I couldn't stop it; it just happened—"

"Look, I don't care. Just figure out how to reverse it. I don't care how you do it, what you have to do—I just want it done. And soon. Is that understood?"

He managed a nod.

"You are dismissed," she said coldly. "And I don't want you in my sight until Max is back again."

Jeb Batchelder stood up and scurried out of the room as fast as his legs would take him.

* * *

**Max**

My head spun as I heard Iggy's footsteps retreat. My suspicions had been confirmed—I was now Iggy; he was now me. Oh, yes, this was just _great_. How could we explain this to the flock?

We couldn't have two different stories. Which meant that we needed to figure out what to do together. Right now. I sighed. Feeling my way against the wall and trying to avoid running into anything again, I poked my head around the corner. "Iggy!" I hissed.

His quiet footsteps stopped for an instant before resuming more loudly—heading my way, I presumed. "What?" he said. I could tell that he was still smirking.

"Look," I said as calmly as I could, "we need to talk. What are we going to tell everyone else?"

Iggy seemed surprised. "Tell them?" he said. "We're not going to tell them anything. They'll think we're insane."

I raised my eyebrows. "Iggy," I said exasperatedly, "we're mutant bird freaks. We're on the run. I have a freaking _voice_ in my head. I think they already know that we're insane." He started to protest, but I continued. "Besides, you might recall that we have a _mind reader_ with us. Won't she notice?"

"Just trust me, Max. It won't be good."

"But why—"

He sighed. "Max, really. Think. The flock is already stressed about everything—being on the run, staying hidden, taking precautions for Erasers, everything that we have to deal with. If we tell them that we're… _switched_, they'll freak. They'll be worried about us and how we're going to get back— or _if_ we ever get back. They don't need that on top of everything else." Iggy paused. "Well, _we_ don't need that on top of everything else, but I guess we're stuck with it. But that doesn't mean that we have to make it worse for the rest of them. I'd thought that you would have seen that."

He _did_ have a point. I didn't want the flock any more stressed than they already were. I wondered why I hadn't seen it before.

"Not to mention that Fang will never let me forget it if he finds out that I was in _your_ body."

I chuckled—the real reason was out at last. But what Iggy had said was true, even if he didn't really mean it. We could handle this; there was no reason to get the flock worked up about something we could fix. Right?

At last, I relented. "All right, we won't tell them. Which means that…" I trailed off, realizing what we had to do. "…That I'll have to act like you. And you'll have to act like me."

Oh, jeez. Could Iggy handle being me? He would have to deal with being leader, with saving the world, with the Voice, with everything I had to put up with. Could he do it?

I paused. On the other hand, this meant that I got a break. No Voice, no saving the world, no pressure of taking care of everyone. Zip, zero, zilch. All I had to do was act like Iggy. I could do that. I mean, it couldn't be _that_ hard.

Fang's voice rose from downstairs. "Hey, Iggy, we're getting hungry. Can you come start dinner?"

Oh, crap.

* * *

**Iggy**

My eyes widened in horror. Max, cooking? God save us. I couldn't do that to the flock. You know, I _did_ want to live another day.

I stared at Max's panic-stricken face. Clearly, she was just as excited about this as I was. You know, I love Max, Max is a great leader, but she can't cook worth crap. So how were we going to pull this off?

"Um, Iggy?" Fang called again.

I grimaced. "Just go," I whispered. "I'll help, okay?"

Max nodded reluctantly. "I'll be down in a second," she called. Suddenly, she shifted uncomfortably. "Um…" she said nervously. "The stairs…"

Oh, right. Being blind was no piece of pie, and Max was far from used to it. Which meant that I would have to help her with everything. God, this was going to look weird…

I sighed. "Fine," I muttered. Wrapping one arm firmly around her waist and holding her shoulder with the other, we began to move slowly and awkwardly down the stairs.

And guess who was waiting for us at the bottom?

Fang's eyes widened in surprise and confusion before I saw a flash of anger cross his normally expressionless face. And—was that a hint of _jealousy_?

Somebody gag me. Please.

Fang's eyes flickered from my face to my arms around Max and back again. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. He probably had no idea what was going on—he didn't know that who he thought was Max was really _me_… and the only reason I appeared to be holding _Iggy_ by the waist is so that Max could get used to being blind. He was mostly likely jumping to all sorts of strange conclusions.

Oh, God. He didn't think that Max… _liked_ me, did he?

Okay, that would just be _weird_.

Fang was still staring at me. Really, that boy had one strange mind.

I sighed. "M-_Iggy_ is still kind of weak from the explosion. He got hit harder than I did." There. That made sense, right?

It was right then that I realized that we had been at the bottom of the stairs for three minutes and I was _still_ holding Max's waist. Crap. There goes that argument.

I dropped my arm as though burned, my face flushing slightly. "Er… I…" I trailed off, realizing that I was just making things worse. I turned and strode into the tiny kitchen and, without thinking, began to assemble the ingredients for my favorite pasta.

"Um… Max?"

It took a moment for me to realize that Fang was talking to me. "What?"

"You're… um… _cooking_."

What was his point? "So?"

Fang looked as though on the edge of laughter. "Well, you know, I _do_ value my life…"

Oh. Right. I was Max. Max didn't cook. What was I thinking?

My cheeks grew hot as my mind raced furiously. I had to explain this _somehow_—and out of my mouth came the first thing I thought of.

"Iggy's been teaching me."

I winced as soon as the words had left my lips. If Fang didn't already think that Max and I liked each other, he would definitely be at least suspicious by now. Curse my stupid mouth!

"Er… I mean…"

Fang just appeared confused. "When were you spending enough time with Iggy for him to teach you?" He smirked. "That's not an easy task."

I glared at him. "You'll see," I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max get up nervously. "Just stay there, Iggy," I called. "I'm going to show Fang my new cooking skills!"

Fang paled visibly, and shouts of "What? Cooking? Max is cooking?" came from upstairs. Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel raced down, eager to see what was going on. I grinned. This was going to be fun.

But no sooner than I had retrieved the olive oil from the top shelf of the pantry, my head exploded.

I fell to my knees, clutching my head. Distantly I felt Fang's sturdy arms surround me and heard his voice whispering, "Max, Max. It's okay. Stay with me." I didn't even have enough strength to gag.

After what could have been a few minutes or a few hours, the pain finally ceased. I managed to stumble into the bathroom and promptly vomited into the toilet. I wiped my mouth in disgust.

Oh, man. Is this what Max felt like when she had all those brain attacks? Does that mean—

_Hello, Iggy._

The Voice? Max's Voice? _Um, hello?_

The Voice chuckled, sending another shockwave of pain through my brain. _Yes, Iggy, I'm Max's Voice. Well, _your_ Voice, now. Until you switch back._

Right. _And how, exactly, do you suggest that I do that?_

_Iggy, if I knew, you'd already be back._

Oh. Well, _thanks_. We all knew just how _helpful_ Max's Voice was when we really needed it to be.

"The Voice again?" Fang asked sympathetically. I nodded, still creeped out by the way he was looking at me. Did Max seriously not notice that the guy was completely in love with her? Good God, she was oblivious.

_Iggy, you need to be careful. Fang will start to think that Max doesn't like him, that maybe she likes you instead. That could prove disastrous._

Disastrous? Okay, that seemed a little over the top, but whatever. I supposed it would interfere with saving the world and all.

_Let me put it this way: If Fang starts to think too much that Max doesn't like him, he could very likely become depressed and leave. If he leaves, Max will fall apart—and therefore, the world is left to burn. Got it? Good._

I chuckled. _Well, aren't we turning into quite the soap opera here?_

Apparently, the Voice didn't find nearly as much amusement in that as I did. _This is serious, Iggy._

I rolled my eyes. It sounded so self-righteous and pompous—I could easily understand why Max got so annoyed with it. _Yeah, soap opera serious. 'I'm sorry, Janet! I never meant to cheat on you! Please don't leave me!'_

The Voice didn't respond. Good riddance.

"You can show me your cooking skills another time," Fang said gently. "Iggy, you want to take over?"

Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. I was _not_ going to have Max cook.

"Um," I said abruptly, startling Fang, "how does takeout sound?"

Fang looked at me in confusion, but Max gave me a grateful smile. "Takeout sounds great," she said appreciatively.

"Yeah, takeout!" cried Gazzy. "I want Chinese!"

"I want McDonald's!"

"I want pizza!"

"Alright, guys," Max said, stepping in gracefully. "We'll get whatever we can find, okay?" I grinned at her.

I tried to smile at Fang, but no doubt it looked more like a grimace. He was still looking from me to Max and back again, wide-eyed in astonishment.

Heh. Oops.

* * *

So, there you have it. It might take me a bit to get the next chapter out. I'm going to make them long, because it can only be five chapters. However, I'll really try to post it as soon as I can. As always, I would love it if you could tell me what you thought of it. Also, check out my other new MR story. It's a parody of The Angel Experiment, and I think it's a laugh. Thanks for reading! 

TheSmartypants


	3. Chapter 3: Steps and Stains

**Dazed and Confused**

**A/N: **Yup, you heard it right. I'm back. And I'm back in a big way, too-- this chapter is the longest I've ever written. I'm rather proud of myself. Personally, I think that it's the best chapter yet. But you'll have to be the judge of that, won't you?

First of all, I would like to apologize profusely for the delay in getting this chapter up. I know I said I'd try to have it done in less than a month, and I know it's been over three. I am really, really, really sorry. Just... things have been insane. Seriously. Remember how I said that hopefully the arrival of summer would bring more time? Yeah. _So_ not true. Also, this chapter took a lot more time to write because it's so lengthy. And the reason that it's so long is because, for the challenge, the story can be no more than five chapters. Which means that I have to pack a lot of stuff into each one. Please forgive me for taking so long. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait.

Second, thank you all so much for the support you've given this story. I still can't believe the response that this has recieved, and I love every single review. I can't tell you how much it means to me. (And yeah, I know I sound like a weepy soap star, but give me a break, okay?) So I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed since chapter two:

raee, Silidons, CullenLove, Ella Cinders, Wings of Water- SKYE, o0Elizabeth Cullen0o, EdwardAddict, kaylormonkey, CrimsonScarz, .Dr1v3n t0 1n5aN1Ty., Myrah, icydragon14, Aqua279, Stephanie Pascal (formerly x Step on Me x), Edward brought sexy back, Venomous Angel 75, plainlyironic, Marie, Pyromaniac-Girl, Set.Me.Free.123, Mew-Sahara, nightline6, xx-fazzems-xx, XIII Dragon, Dreams-of-Oompa-Loompas, fireandice226, XIrishXDreamerX, Batgirl, paper-mate2, Crazyanimeluva, rebekahsc, RogueSummersLover, kanpai7440, Dark Emo Shadow, amberdark, scarily obsessed, kakadumitters, Winged kunai, and mockingbird22.

I don't know if anybody ever actually reads that blob of names, but I need to give credit to all the wonderful people who brighten my days somehow. Thanks, you guys!

Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out my other MR story, a parody of The Angel Experiment. If you're waiting for an update on that, know that lately I've been devoting all my writing time to this chapter, but I do have plans to continue with it. Really, how could I not? It's way too much fun.

And about the next update for this story: I'm not going to make any impossible promises this time. But I do promise that I will get it completed as soon as I can, and although I'm not sure when that will be, I will try my best to make it fairly fast.

**Warning:** This chapter contains heavy references to certain feminine issues. (Sorry, boys. But hopefully you'll be able to handle it.) Also some mild swearing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, etc. But I own my plot. Yay for me.

And now, on to chapter three. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three: Steps and Stains

**Max**

Well, there's a lot to be said for Chinese takeout.

Especially when the guy can't speak English to save his life. And gets all weirded out by us even though we restrained ourselves and only ordered three servings of pan-fried dumplings, two of lo mein chicken, three sesame noodles, one of those beef and broccoli dishes, one moo goo gai pan, two of the mu shu pork, and four extra servings of rice. And starts mumbling something in Chinese, probably something along the lines of how we're demon children come to get him. And practically refuses to give us our food until I literally take my money and _shove_ it under his big, hairy nose.

Jeez. Only _three_ orders of dumplings. Talk about overreacting.

Anyway, as I was saying, there's a lot to be said for Chinese takeout. Not all of it is pleasant, but I was mainly concerned about the fact that—even though it was a righteous pain in the butt to get—it was still a heck of a lot better than I would have done. Yes, we all know about my fabulous cooking skills.

"Look, I'm a walrus!" Gazzy cried as he stuck his chopsticks up his nose _yet again_. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Nothing like an eight-year-old's sense of humor.

"Gazzy," I explained patiently, "it was funny the first time. It was not so funny the second time. It was even less funny the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth times. It's really not funny now."

"Okay," he said sweetly, extracting the chopsticks from his nose, before crying: "Nudge! Let's have a chopstick war!"

I groaned.

Sometime, amidst all the distraction, Fang came silently up to me and touched my shoulder to inform me of his presence. To my horror, my cheeks grew hot.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I managed.

Fang seemed to be struggling. "Look," he said finally, "you've been acting kind of weird lately. What's up?"

I tried to act casual, tried to act as Iggy would, tried not to show that I was panicking on the inside. "Nothing," I said, but I couldn't help the slight wobble in my voice. "I'm fine. Really."

I didn't need to see his face to know that he was searching my face with his penetrating eyes, trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not.

"Okay," he said somewhat skeptically. "What about Max, though? _She's_ been acting odd; you can't deny that."

I couldn't help it: I tensed. Fang seemed to notice it, because when he spoke, his tone was grim.

"What's going on between you two?"

"Touché!" Nudge cried as she poked Gazzy with her chopstick. Neither of us paid them any mind.

I knew that Fang's dark eyes were still probing every inch of my face, could feel the warmth of his closeness. "What do you mean?" I demanded. "There is _nothing_ going on between me and Max. I—"

"What?" he pushed.

"Nothing," I said, standing up. "Just forget it."

"Ig," he called. I pretended not to hear him as I walked away.

I strode onto the front porch and sat on the steps. Under normal circumstances I would have gone flying, but I didn't quite trust myself with that yet. I'd already had an introduction to the wall; I wasn't exactly in the mood to socialize with the trees. I just needed to think.

I really had to crack down on this whole acting-like-Iggy thing. Acting as leader was not okay. Running into walls was not okay. Blushing around Fang was _definitely_ not okay. Where had that come from, anyway? And what did Fang think was going on between me and Iggy?

I sunk my head into my hands. It was only then that I heard the sound of crickets chirping and realized that it must be nightfall. I panicked for a moment before remembering once again: I was Iggy. I didn't have to do get the kids ready for bed or anything. I chuckled, wondering what on earth they would think if _Iggy_ came and tucked them in.

I stood slowly and felt my way inside. I inched over to the staircase and winced. As sad as it was, I wasn't sure that I could get up it without help. "Max?" I hissed.

There was no response. Groaning internally, I tried again, a little louder. "Max?"

But Iggy didn't answer. I swore inside my head, thankful that Angel wasn't around.

Well, I guess I had to start getting around on my own sometime. If I remembered correctly, there were sixteen steps. Sixteen. Okay. I could do this.

Wishing fervently for a handrail (it had collapsed long before we arrived), I put my foot on the first step and pulled myself up.

_One._

I allowed myself to crack a grin. This wasn't so bad. It seemed almost comical that ten seconds ago I had been far more terrified of a staircase than any Erasers that could bust our hideout. I lifted my foot again and repeated the process.

_Two, three, four…_

I was cruising now. Really, I think I was starting to get used to being blind. Of course, it still completely sucked not being able to see, but at least I could _walk_ now.

_Eight, nine, ten…_

I laughed at how utterly out of proportion I had blown the whole staircase thing. It was a piece of cake. Sixteen steps were nothing.

_Fourteen, fifteen, six—_

And then my foot crashed through air, I completely lost my balance and landed flat on my face, and an explosion of swearing that could have woken Angel from a mile away erupted inside my head.

Fifteen. There were only _fifteen_ steps. Crap, crap, crap, crap, _crap_. I pounded the floor ferociously. What? It deserved it.

I was not used to being blind; I suspected that I would never be. The "whole staircase thing" was _not_ blown out of proportion. That staircase _was_ terrifying. It was pure evil. It was out to get me.

Don't laugh—it'll be after you next.

With as much dignity as I could manage (i.e., not very much), I stood and brushed myself off. I could deal with the evil staircase later; right now I just wanted to sleep. It had been a long, long day.

Iggy's room was the third door on the left after the turn. And the turn… I paused, trying to remember the exact location of the turn that led to Iggy, Gazzy, and Fang's rooms. I was pretty sure that it was about fifteen feet from the top of the staircase. Gauging how long that would take to reach, I took a deep breath and walked forward. So far, so good.

I should have seen it coming; I should have expected it—because heaven forbid my life be anything _remotely_ resembling easy, right?

I crashed into the wall. My face smashed against it; my hands came up by my side to push on it for support. Every part of me seemed to be shoved into that horrible paneling.

And I was completely, utterly, officially pissed.

"Oh, crap," I mouthed against the wall, hardly noticing and certainly not caring that I was talking to myself. "Crap, crap, _crap!_" My vocabulary seemed to have momentarily condensed to that single word. "CRAP!"

Stupid wall. Probably it was in a conspiracy with the staircase.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," I went on. My lips brushed against the dusty surface, but it hardly registered in my mind. "I hate being blind. I hate it, hate it, hate it! I need to get back. _I need to get back._"

I had completely snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't know _how_ Iggy got used to this, but it definitely wasn't working for me. "Crap," I said again, just to enforce the point.

And then:

"Um… _Iggy?_" my voice said.

_Crap._

"Hmm?" I mumbled, still fuming silently.

There was an uneasy pause, during which I could practically hear Iggy smirking. _Crap, crap, crap._ And then it came.

"…Why are you making out with a wall?"

_Cr—_

_What?!?_

"What?" I squeaked, tearing my face away from the wall. How did he come up with—

Oh.

"I—I wasn't—"

"Sure," he snickered. "Thinking of _Fnick?_"

My cheeks flamed. Like I was going to think of anything _else_, now. "No!" I cried. "How—how could you—"

"Aw, look," he crooned, "you're blushing! How cute… Hey! _Ow!_"

I grinned as my fist hit its target. Iggy _so_ deserved that.

"What was that for?" he cried indignantly. I shrugged and smirked.

Iggy huffed in exasperation. "You two are so _obvious_," he muttered.

I blinked in confusion. _What?_

"Do you really not see it?" Iggy said wonderingly. "God, are you blind."

I snorted. "That's rich, coming from _you_."

Iggy snorted right back. "No," he said, "sometimes I think I'm the only one of us who _can_ see." Then he brushed past me to retreat into his—well, _my_—room, shutting the door none too quietly after him.

Leaving me standing in the middle of the hall, still very blind and wondering what the h-e-double toothpicks was going on.

What had Iggy meant by that? _"You two are so obvious."_ Who, Fang and me? Obvious about what?

A thought struck me, and I couldn't help but laugh aloud. It was absolutely preposterous. Surely Iggy didn't think that Fang and I… well…

Yup. Completely ridiculous.

But then what was the whole deal with the "thinking of Fnick" thing? Why would he suggest that I was thinking of Fang after accusing me of making out with a wall? And how about "Do you really not see it?" See _what_? What on earth was Iggy talking about?

I tried to think, but mind just kept coming back to the only answer that seemed to make any bit of sense. But _why _would Iggy think that Fang and I… _loved_ each other? That's just…no, okay? No. Fang didn't love me, not like that. And I certainly didn't love Fang!

…Did I?

Fang was my best friend, my second-in-command, the one person I could always trust and depend upon. It was natural for me to feel something for him. But that didn't explain why I was always blushing around him, or why my pulse quickened whenever he touched me. Or why I'd kissed him at the beach that one time.

Still.

Then I thought of Fang, how his dark eyes would stare into mine and I would feel like he could see everything inside of me. How we would talk, just the two of us, and he would always understand like no one else could.

How his warm mouth had felt under mine…

I was having a heated argument with myself, and I was losing.

And then, all at once, my body seemed to tingle all over as I thought of him once more, and I finally realized what I had been avoiding for so long.

_Crap._

I was in love with Fang.

And oh, man, I was _not_ happy about it.

* * *

**Fang**

"Why are you making out with a wall?" I heard Max say.

_What?_ I thought. Iggy, making out with a wall? _I've got to see this one…_

I left my post at our laptop where I was composing a blog entry and inched towards the doorway. Peering out of the crack between the door and frame, I saw Iggy leaning against the wall as Max smirked.

"What?" Iggy squeaked, and I suppressed a smirk of my own. "I—I wasn't—"

"Sure," Max said, rolling her eyes. "Thinking of _Fnick_?"

Thinking of—wait, what? Why Iggy be thinking of _me_? Especially while allegedly making out with a wall?

What was Max implying there? Surely she didn't think that… Iggy…

Ew.

All right, I _know_ Iggy's not gay. Many past discussions, mostly during the time we were at Anne's, had shown this. That girl—what was her name? Trish? Tess?

To my utter confusion, he began to turn bright red.

"No!" he cried indignantly. "How—how could you—"

What was up with all this stumbling over words? Iggy had been doing a lot more of that the past few days, and I had absolutely no idea why. He was just acting so _odd_ lately.

"Aw, look," Max said, taunting, "you're blushing! How cute…"

Okay, what the hell? Did Max really think that Iggy liked me or something? I shuddered at the thought. And why was she acting so… I don't know, supportive, even? I'd thought that… maybe she…

"Hey! _Ow!_" Max exclaimed as Iggy dealt a strong blow to her shoulder, and even though she probably deserved it, I still had to restrain myself from yelling at him for hitting her. Max was tough; Max could fight her own battles; besides, I highly doubted that she would want me interfering. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at anyone who attacked her.

"What was that for?" she asked, a look of mock hurt on her face. Iggy merely grinned.

Max exhaled heavily, rolling her eyes. "You two are so _obvious_."

What? Who was obvious? Surely not _me_ and Iggy? I'm pretty sure that Iggy's straight, but I'm absolutely certain that _I_ am. God, I do _not_ like men! I like…

_No, I'm not going to go there. Not now._

"Do you really not see it?" Max was saying, but I had heard enough. I withdrew back into my room, back to my blog. But as I stared at the screen, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. The only thoughts I managed flicked back to the conversation I had just heard.

Why did Max think that Iggy and I…? Nothing could be farther from the truth. I would never, ever, in a million years like Iggy like that.

No, there was only one person who I liked, and it sure as hell wasn't him.

I sat back and let the inescapable reality flow over me once more: I was in love with Max. Sad? Yes. Hopeless? Also yes. Yet there was no way that I could change it, even though I knew it would probably never happen. Max was too strong, too stubborn, too amazing.

But over the past month or so, I had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something there.

…And now here she was, basically stating that Iggy and I were gay.

Great. Just freaking great.

I admit, I'd wondered why Iggy had been acting so odd. He was always flushed around me; he appeared unsure of what to say; he almost seemed like he didn't know who he was anymore. But I'd never thought that he was gay. I'd even wondered if he liked Max, which had seemed semi-logical. They were spending so much time together lately. There was _something_ going on between the two of them, I was sure. And the way they were holding on to each other earlier tonight… I felt my fists clench involuntarily.

Oh, God, I was so confused.

I loved Max, Iggy might also like her, Max thought that Iggy liked _me_, and Max herself… I wasn't sure about Max's feelings. Ever since that bomb went off, nothing seemed certain anymore.

Not even, it appeared, Iggy's…erm, _orientation_.

As I finally sank into sleep that night, my dreams were troubled and confused. Max and I were flying alone, soaring through the clear, open sky, and she looked at me with a gaze full of pure love. Then we were on an island, frolicking in the soft white sand; everything was perfect; I leaned in to kiss her…

And suddenly Max was Iggy, eyes closed and lips parted, and when I started to backpedal he leaned in himself. I tried to pull away, but it was too late. Max was standing on the sand beside us; she was yelling something and I began to explain, but then I realized that it was _Iggy_ she was yelling at, not me. Iggy tried to apologize, but Max was storming away, fiercely wiping tears from her eyes. I called after her, but it was useless; she was already in the sky by then, zooming far away with her superspeed.

"Max!"

I woke with a start, jolting upright in bed. Sweat dripped down my forehead. I lay back with a sigh, but when I closed my eyes the images from my dream swam before me: Iggy leaning in, Max's tearful face. I rolled over and stared at the wall. There was no way I was going to be able to get back to sleep.

Just what, exactly, was going on with everyone?

* * *

**Iggy**

I yawned and stretched as I woke, relishing in the warmth of the sunlight on my face. I squinted happily against the sudden brightness. Yeah, being in Max's body was weird and I had no intention of remaining like this, but it was just so _awesome_ to be able to see again.

After a moment of reflection, I threw off the covers and clambered out of bed. Today would be a great day. Today I could enjoy my sight, mess with Fang's mind a little more, and maybe start to work out how to switch back.

I thought about my plans for the day, revising and switching things around where necessary. And then I realized one, very important thing.

I really needed to pee.

My cheeks grew hot as I contemplated this action, but there was no alternative. I needed to pee, and I needed to pee _now_. I just… I just wouldn't look, that was all. Easy.

Crap, this was going to be awkward.

With my face still flaming red, I shuffled towards the bathroom. Mentally steadying myself, I shut the door and pulled down my pajamas.

To find my underpants completely drenched in blood.

Oh, my God.

Blood. _There_.

Holy _shit_.

I couldn't think, couldn't do anything. Even the pressing urge to pee was shoved to the back of my mind. Max was bleeding… er, _there_. That was not good. At all. I knew vomiting blood was a sign of death; I'd never heard about bleeding there, but what if it meant the same thing? Or… was this a sign of her expiration date? Could Max be dying?

And—oh, God, my brain was paralyzed—if Max's body died, would I die? Or Max? Or both of us?

Yanking my plaid pajama pants upward, I strode out of the bathroom and down the hall towards my real room. How could I tell Max about this…? But she needed to know…

"Iggy!" I called frantically as I neared the door. "_Iggy!_" I pounded on the wood, but there was still no response. Throwing all caution to the winds, I flung open the door.

My body sat up in bed at the sudden noise. "What the crap?" Max said incredulously.

"Er… Iggy… I've got to talk to you," I said. Max was still giving me a blank expression. "_Now_," I added forcibly.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," she mumbled, shaking her head. "What's wrong?"

I shut the door behind me, not sure if I wanted the others to know about Max's predicament just yet. "Listen… Max…" I began. "I think there's something wrong with you."

Max's expression changed from one of confusion to one of slight hurt. "Well, gee, _thanks_. Glad to know I'm so appreciated."

"Not like that!" I said, somewhat irritated. "You're a great person. I meant… your body. I think there's something wrong. Something serious."

Max raised her eyebrows. "Besides being a mutant freak with _wings?_"

I huffed in exasperation. "Max, this is serious," I reiterated.

"So we've established," she muttered.

Now I understood Max's frustration at sending me all those death glares that I couldn't see.

"Well," she said, apparently trying to lighten the mood, "what is so seriously wrong with my body?"

I gulped. "I... I think… you might be dying."

"_What?_" came her cry. Clearly, that had gotten her attention.

"I think you might be dying."

"No, I heard you," she said, shaking her head, "but… _what?_"

I didn't know how to respond.

"How can you tell? How do you…" she trailed off.

"I—well, it's—you're bleeding." My face flamed again. "A lot."

Max seemed to be contemplating something. "Where?" she asked.

If I had thought that my face couldn't get any more red, I had been so wrong. "Er… well…"

Max quirked an eyebrow.

"…Down _there_," I finished.

Max's expression began to shift from a mixture of confusion and fear to one of something else that I couldn't quite detect. "Down… _there?_" she repeated.

"Um, yeah," I said, grateful for her newfound blindness. I squirmed.

Max's breath came out in a _whoosh_. "Ig, that… well, it happens every month or so."

I stared, uncomprehending. Every month or so? Then…

"How long has this been going on?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.

She shrugged. "I dunno. About a year."

A year? A _year?_ Max had been dying for a year and she hadn't told us? We could have helped her, could have done something… How long did she have? Oh, God…

"Why didn't you tell us?" I blurted, my built-up fear and frustration threatening to explode. I paced the room. "A year, Max, a year! _God!_"

"Iggy, what—"

"Does Fang know?" I asked, and she shook her head. "You didn't tell _anyone?_"

Max sighed. "Ig, this isn't really something that all you guys needed to know—"

"Oh, no," I spat, "the fact that you're _dying_ isn't important at all; why should you bother us with a trivial thing like that?"

Max was silent.

I took a closer look at her face then. She seemed to be struggling… against what, I couldn't tell. Her expression contorted; she seemed to be fighting a losing battle. A choked sound escaped her throat. Could it be… _tears?_

I could count on one hand the times I had seen—or, rather, heard—Max cry. And yet here she was, about to break down in front of me. Why was she so upset? Was it guilt at having kept this from us for so long? Fear of what could happen to her?

Another strangled noise, and all my anger evaporated in an instant. I knelt beside her. "Oh, Max," I murmured. "It'll be okay. You'll—you'll get through this."

And then Max dissolved into laughter, and suddenly I realized that it hadn't been tears she was struggling against after all.

"You… thought… dying…" she barely choked out. Tears, not of sadness but mirth, streamed down her cheeks and dripped onto her neck.

I stared incredulously. "You mean… you're not?" What else was I supposed to think? It was the only logical conclusion!

Max gave another howl of laughter. I began to fear for her sanity.

"Ig," she gasped, "I'm not dying."

My brain struggled to grasp this concept. "Then… what…"

"It's normal," she said, still not fully containing her amusement.

Normal? _Normal?_ Look, I'd seen the stuff, and that did _not_ look normal to me. People just didn't bleed there, okay?

Although Max couldn't see my blank stare, she seemed to sense it, because she sighed. "It's a woman thing, all right?"

A… woman thing?

_Oh._

My face felt hot enough to fry bacon. I think I had heard of that somewhere, after all; I just never thought about it happening to Max. That's a rather disturbing thought about someone who's practically your sister.

But sheesh. She could have just _told _me straight away, instead of making me think that she was dying!

"So," I gulped, still digesting this new development, "what do we do now?"

Max muttered something unintelligible.

"What was that?" I asked as politely as I could manage.

She briefly closed her eyes. "I said, 'pads.'"

I remained silent, still confused. What was she going on about now? "And by that you mean…?"

"_Pads,_" Max hissed, looking as though on the verge of hysterics again. "Go into my bathroom. In the drawer beneath the sink you'll find a packet of pads. You peel off the paper and put the sticky bit on your underwear, okay?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry… what?"

She groaned, but couldn't completely hide the chuckle that escaped her lips. "This is _so_ awkward," she grumbled.

I rolled my eyes in response. "You're telling _me_."

Max let herself laugh fully now, although I still couldn't see what was so damn funny. "Just do it, all right? It'll absorb the blood."

I winced as the sickening mental image of the stain once again invaded my brain. I was no stranger to blood, but when it came from _there_ it was enough to make any man feel nauseous. "Okay," I gulped.

The sound of Max's laughter rang in my ears even after I shut the door behind me.

I entered the bathroom, closing the door soundly. Steeling myself, I opened the drawer below the sink and pulled out a pink package with the word _Tampax_ splayed across it. I swallowed nervously.

I'd battled Erasers. I'd built bombs. I'd flown cross-country, escaped from the School, and invaded Itex. And here I was, cowering in terror because I had to deal with some… feminine issues. I was a man, for God's sake. I should be able to handle this.

Or maybe that was just it: I was a man. A six-foot-three, testosterone-charged, male almost-human. I _shouldn't_ have to deal with this. It was cruel and unusual torture.

But there was nothing I could do about it yet, so I merely sighed and resigned myself to the task. I pulled one of the "pads" out of the package and ripped off the paper surrounding it. I stared at it in surprise. It was shaped like a cylinder with a little string on the end, and it was pretty small. How was _this_ supposed to absorb all the blood? I shook my head, but figured that Max probably knew what she was talking about. I looked for the sticky bit that she had mentioned, but I couldn't find it.

"Crap," I muttered.

With the pad in hand, I marched towards my room. "Max," I called, knocking on the door, "I need some help."

Max beckoned me inside. "What is it now?"

"I can't find the sticky part," I said, frustration seeping into my tone. "How am I supposed to get it on?"

She sighed. "Hand it over," she ordered, and I complied.

As Max twisted the object in her hands, I noticed a familiar expression of struggling creeping onto her face. I cursed mentally. This couldn't be good.

"Ig," Max said, clearly restraining herself, "this isn't a pad."

_What?_ But it was where she said they were! And what else was it supposed to be, anyway? "Then… what is it?"

Max let out a chuckle that she quickly tried to disguise as a cough. "Well… it's for more or less the same thing, but it doesn't go on your underwear."

I stared at her blankly. "Where _does_ it go, then?"

The tips of her ears smoldered a bright red. "Er…"

There was a brief moment of silence, and then I blanched as I suddenly understood. "You mean… it... oh, man, that is just _sick_," I spat, feeling like I was going to hurl.

"The… other package…" Max managed to spout through her fits of laughter. I shot her a glare as I left the room, wishing she could see it.

True enough, there was another package in the drawer. I scowled as I opened this one to find what was, apparently, a pad. _The sooner I'm done with this, the better,_ I thought as I slapped it haphazardly on my underwear.

It was rather uncomfortable and I found myself walking awkwardly. Perhaps I hadn't put it on carefully enough, but honestly I couldn't bring myself to care. How girls dealt with this every month was beyond me.

When I thought I had regained my composure enough, I started downstairs. "Um… Max?" Fang said as soon as he saw my clumsy gait. "Are you all right?"

I narrowed my eyes. I wanted to say, "No, Fang, I am _not_ all right! I'm stuck inside a girl's body, forced to have you drooling over me all the time, and I have just been more humiliated than ever before. Not to mention that I'm probably scarred for life. Yup, things are just _dandy_." But since I am (generally) a nice and sensible person, I merely ground out through my teeth, "I. Am. Fine."

Fang's expression indicated that he thought otherwise, but I ignored him and plopped down at the kitchen table.

Things had gotten way out of control. I was done. Completely. Suddenly I no longer cared about being able to see—I just wanted to be back in my own body, sight or no sight. And the more I thought about it, the more it cemented in my mind.

I wanted out of this body. And good God, I wanted out _now._

_

* * *

_

Well, if you've gotten this far, I must congratulate you-- I know it's pretty long. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway. As always, I would love to hear your opinions. Thanks for reading!

TheSmartypants


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